


Ten Love Letters (That you never got)

by classpect



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Clementine Von Radics, M/M, Ten Love Letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classpect/pseuds/classpect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A work inspired by Clementine Von Radics' Ten Love Letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Love Letters (That you never got)

**_I have a body like an open door. I have a body like an open hand. It is too easy to hold me._ **

 Glossy lips glided over creamy, flushed skin, leaving patches, splotches of red in their wake.

 _“Dave,”_ he cried out, a fingers trembling as they held onto strong, soft shoulders, danced over his neck, up into his hair, curling into fists, tugging not hard enough to hurt, but enough to distract, definitely, and he was pulling away.

_“Should I stop?”_

_“We’re just friends,”_ he panted.

A pause, a flicker, a comma in a run-on sentence.

_“I know that. Should I stop?”_

His hair was messy and the flush of his cheeks was hidden behind the mirrored shades, and John saw his own blown blue eyes staring right back at him, slightly distorted, a little darkened by the black plastic. He wanted this. He wanted Dave.

But he doesn’t love Dave, no. They are just friends.

_“Don’t you dare.”_

 

**_Here is the bitter truth: that mouthful of thorns you called our last kiss still lingers after so many others._ **

John looked so peaceful sleeping next to him, his chest rising and falling. Dave’s eyes took in the curves of his face, the angular jaw, strong nose, closed, deep set eyes, the smallest cleft on his chin, barely noticeable. The beginnings of dark stubble. His eyes trailed down to his neck, the small lump of his adam’s apple on his throat, and everything below was dotted with small, red marks that fit the shape of Dave’s mouth perfectly. They would disappear within the day, Dave knew, and John would be a blank slate, again.  

They were 22, barely adults, barely children.

Dave reached a hand out, smoothing John’s hair out, pushing it back. John’s breath hitched, and Dave froze, fingers caught in dark locks. John shifted, and turned over, shying away from Dave, taking some of the duvet, back to him.

How much longer would they go on like this?

Dave drew away and turned over as well, in an attempt to distract himself from the soul lying in bed next to him, clinging onto a spare pillow, a sorry substitute for something he would never have, and let his eyes slip shut.

Friends by day, a little less by night.

 

**_Find a stranger with sharp edges and uncharted hips. Press your stories into their skin and forget you ever knew his name. Just promise you won’t think of embers or smoke._ **

“I got a girlfriend,” John found himself saying one day, sitting on the couch, alone while Dave microwaved leftovers. If he had been in the kitchen, he would have witnessed Dave almost drop everything he was holding. Of course, he was outside, and to him, Dave remained impassive.

Both of them knew what that meant, they didn’t have to address it. This would become another one of those things buried under years of friendship, like kisses stolen in closets between classes in high school, like Dave carefully preserving everything John ever gave him, from the decade-old shades to the smell of his clothes that had worked its way into Dave’s own wardrobe.

Memory.

John slept alone from then on, though it wasn’t always in his own bed.

 

_**Here is the truth: It is hard to be in love with someone who is in love someone else. I don't know how to turn that into poetry.** _

A year later, and they split up, John moving in with his girlfriend. She wasn’t half bad. She wasn’t bad at all. She was perfect, and she made John happy in all the ways that Dave never would.

He knew it wouldn’t take John very long to realize that, boy was smarter than he let on.

Their lease would end in a month, and the best apartment Dave could find was an hour away from John. The parting was brief, a quick hug, a flimsy promise to schedule regular get-togethers. John swore up and down that this wasn’t a goodbye, it was a see-you-again, and Dave wanted to believe him.

A part of what they were had ended, and Dave didn’t want to let go, but he left anyway, after locking their everything away for the last time, handing the keys over.

 

_**These rooms always belong to boys with unshaved faces and tender hearts. Boys like this are a dime a dozen, but I don’t know that yet because tonight I’m with the first one.** _

It went something like this:

Study, Work, Study, Work, Go to a party, Get drunk, Get laid, Wake up, Regret, Study, Work, Study, Work.

John was rarely ever on that list, and when he was, it was always under Regret.

The next time Dave saw him was at graduation, dropping down onto one knee, proposing to his girlfriend among falling mortarboards and family pictures.

Dave felt like he was falling, too, when she nodded, and he picked her up and spun her around.

John caught a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye, caught the spasm in the corner of his mouth.

A small ruby, inlaid in Sterling silver. It was a little bit big on her finger, but she loved it anyway.

No one realized that the ring matched Dave’s eyes like it was made for him.

 

**_I said “I love you” when I meant something much more specific, I should have said “Please don’t leave me, I’m afraid to sleep alone._ **

He stared at the wedding invitation for a good fifteen minutes, and only realized he was crying when small, damp spots appeared on the pretty blue envelope. He circled Not Attending in bright red, and didn’t mail it back.

John texted him a couple of days later, personally asking him whether he would be there, inviting him for bachelor night while he was at it, too. Dave said he would try.

 

**_It’s like my lips want you like my lungs want air, it’s just what they were born to do._ **

John had him up against the shut, locked door of their hotel room, kissing him fervently, drunkenly, hands running up his sides, under his shirt, and it was taking all of Dave to stop him, to push him away, but the alcohol on John’s breath was making him dizzy and he wanted to give in so badly.

_“You’re getting married tomorrow.”_

_“I miss you.”_

_“John, no. You can’t do this, you’re just drunk.”_

_“Sometimes I want you so much it hurts.”_

_“You don’t love me.”_

He paused, almost abruptly, pulling away like he’d been shocked. Dave exhaled, and for for the first time in forever, takes his shades off, rubbing his eyes, the bridge of his nose. John saw years of exhaustion, but didn’t register any of it.

_“Let’s get you to bed, groom.”_

_“Stay with me.”_

_“I’m not gonna fuck you.”_

_“I don’t want sex. I want you.”_

A few hours later and Dave found himself staring at John again, his angular jaw, strong nose, closed, deep set eyes, the smallest cleft on his chin, barely noticeable. The beginnings of dark stubble. His eyes trailed down to his neck, the small lump of his adam’s apple on his throat, and everything below was hidden by the fabric of his rumpled dress shirt.

Dave stared at him for a very long time, trying to memorise him, lips set into a thin, tight line.

 

_**You are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in months.** _

The next morning, the mirrored shades were back up again, and Dave exhaled, softly, slowly. Everyone was looking at the bride right now, but he kept his eyes trained on John, who was smiling so wide his face might split into two.

Dave remembered the last time John smiled like that for him: Last night.

_“You mean the world to me.”_

_“You’re so lucky you won’t remember this in the morning.”_

She reached the altar.

Speak now or forever hold your peace.

John’s eyes scanned the room and locked with Dave’s, through the shades, and, and he saw his own blown blue eyes staring back at him.

 

**_I like to imagine she’s seen you sleeping, and wants me to know you’re doing well._ **

“You’re Dave, right?” asked the Bride, tapping his shoulder. John was in the corner talking to his colleagues. They were alone.

“Yes,” he said, slowly.

“Please try this on,” she said, taking off her ring, handing it to him. He looked up at her, shocked.

“Excuse me?” he asked, a little appalled. What did she know? Had he told her? His eyes flicked over to John, who was now laughing.

“Please. I need to know,” she said, pressing, and Dave heard the bit of desperation. He sighed, and slipped the ring on his finger.

It fit perfectly; he slipped his eyes shut, showing it off.

For a second, he let himself believe that this was his ring, this was his wedding, John was his, and everything was right with the world.

“I knew it.” she murmured. He took the ring off and handed it to her like it burned him. Was she trying to rub it in?

“He says your name in his sleep, sometimes.” she said, and there was a faraway look in her eyes.

Dave swallowed. He had to do this, he had to do this for John.

“Please take care of him for me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

What do you do when you feel like you’ve broken someone?

“I’m so sorry,” she said, hanging her head.

“Don’t be. He’s happier, and so are you. Don’t let anyone take that away from you,” he said, and embraced her when she hugged him, shaking.

What do you do when you feel like you’ve broken someone?

 

**_I know you and I are not about poems or other sentimental bullshit, but I have to tell you even the way you drink your coffee just knocks me the fuck out._ **

Dave was not proud of himself when he cried in his car on the way home, but counted it as a start on the journey to forgetting how to love.

 


End file.
